Damaged
by WhyMustIWrite
Summary: Konoha's ninja culture prizes their young geniuses- especially prodigies like Kakashi, who enter the battlefield before losing their first baby tooth. Iruka worries about the consequences. Sequel to "Sharpening Iron" (though prior reading is not vital).
1. Chapter 1

"Is a ninja a monster, a tool, or a person? And if a person, can he be a good one?"

~Umino Iruka  
Not Over Til The Papework Is In, PII Ch 5

* * *

Prologue

Kakashi attended the fire pit at the center of the camp, knowing it would be the last he could afford to light on this mission. And even here in relatively safe territory, the Copy Nin didn't risk a jutsu-generated fire. Patiently, he waited for the flame to grow before adding a larger twig to the pit.

An older shinobi emerged from amidst the trees, dropping a weighty heap of dry wood by Kakashi's foot. "There. That should be enough to last through the night."

Clasping a large leathery hand on Kakashi's shoulder, he added, "That's a mighty decent fire you got going there. It's nice to see _someone_ in the younger generation remembers how to do it the conventional way."

Kakashi watched as his mission partner settled onto the ground with loose-limbed grace. The elder leaned back on his hands, stretching his spine with the barest of groans.

"If your back is bothering you, Wataru, you should have said something," Kakashi reproved lightly. "I would have gathered the wood."

The jounin laughed, a deep rumbling sound that rose from his chest, "It has nothing to do with the wood, boy. Over fifty years of running missions... _that'll_ tear up your back." The elder wistfully ran his fingers through his closely cropped mane, "As though the grey hair wasn't proof enough that I'm getting old."

"They say that silver hair is a sign of wisdom," Kakashi offered with a shrug, gesturing vaguely at his own hair.

"Huh." Wataru's smoky grey eyes assessed the other consideringly. "No, that definitely doesn't explain it_._"

A broad smile and friendly nudge followed this statement, and Kakashi grinned back in spite of himself. He fed more wood to the infant fire. Light from the flames flickered across the camp and played against the features of the two elite jounin.

Wataru's expression grew pensive as he watched the blaze. "Jokes aside, Kakashi, I am proud to be partnered with you for the last mission of my career. You're a good man. And a halfway decent ninja too, I suppose."

"So it's been said," the younger ninja replied self-effacingly. Leaning forward and resting an elbow on his knee, Kakashi asked, "And what will you do once you retire?"

"I'm not sure yet. All I know is, I've got to take the wife on a vacation. She _is_ the reason I'm hanging up my flak jacket in the first place."

A fond grin stretched across his weathered face, causing the lines around his eyes to become more prominent. "_Civilians_… when you're young, they think it's fun and exciting to date an elite shinobi. Brag about it to all their friends, even. Then you age a bit and they nag you to death about doing something more reasonable!" Wataru chuckled. "I'm fit enough for service yet, but she wants me to retire anyway. I figure she's stood by me through all my crazy antics, long absences, and near-death experiences- I ought to let her have her way eventually, ne?"

By now the reluctant flames had been coaxed to a camp fire suitable for cooking. Both ninja planned to enjoy it. After tonight, their diet would consist of raw vegetation and cold military rations.

"What about you, Kakashi?" The elder piped up offhandedly. "I know the kind of missions you run, and yet you still live in that cramped little apartment. Genius like you must be saving up for something down the line."

Kakashi's brows drew together as he considered the question. Having become a genin at the age of five, he'd already spent over two decades in field service and was only just reaching the prime of his strength. In all that time, it had never occurred to him to plan for anything beyond that. "Mah…I'm not too worried about it," the Copy Nin admitted finally. "I probably won't live long enough to retire anyway."

* * *

On the opposite side of the country, another group of Konoha jounin darted through the trees.

"The encampment is straight ahead," Ibiki announced. To his left, he noticed the rookie of the team brushing her fingers along her vest and equipment pouches to check on her supplies.

Ibiki assessed the lanky brunette, finding her motions nervous and determined. To be expected, with this being her first mission as a jounin. Though not quite thirteen years old, Kiyo was a competent assassin. Her skills and disarming youth gave her an edge in her field.

The four-man cell arrived at their target: a semi-nomadic clan that recently settled within the borders of Fire Country. A tribe of hunter-gatherers, they supplemented their subsistence with outright thievery. The small border villages cried out to Konoha for protection from the bandits.

Attempts at diplomacy had failed. The nomads continued to harass the surrounding villages, refusing to desist from their pillaging. Neither talks nor treaties could persuade them to leave Fire Country.

Their blatant disregard for Konoha's authority could no longer be tolerated. This team of jounin was the Leaf Village's final answer. Their objective was a simple one: complete elimination_._

For formality's sake, Ibiki asked if there were any questions. The mission and their intelligence on the clan's strength and fighting power had been reviewed during briefing.

The rookie hesitated before venturing a query. "What should we do with the innocents, Captain?"

Ibiki eyed her curiously, his scarred lips thinning into a frown. "What part of _complete elimination_ did you not understand?"

"I understand all military targets are to be destroyed," Kiyo responded quickly, not wanting to give the impression that she was losing her nerve. The field of assassination was not for the squeamish, after all. "But this isn't just a military camp. It's also a village. What should we do with the children?"

"Kiyo, you are mistaken," Ibiki explained, "If you believe _anyone_ in that encampment qualifies as a non-military target. Eliminate the adults alone, and the younger generation will carry a life-long hatred for our country. Those children will grow to be a potentially greater threat than their parents."

Another squadmate, an blonde-haired kunoichi in her late thirties, draped her arm around the rookie's slender shoulders and added, "Besides, kid, you should know better than any of us that children can pose just as much danger as the adults."

"In any case," the third added while adjusting his glasses, "Better to nip the problem at the root, than allow it to become a thorn in our side."

Kiyo felt vaguely unsettled as she processed her teammates' explanations - as though there was something more that ought to be considered- yet her mind found no fault in their logic.

She nodded her understanding. Ibiki nodded his approval at the quick acquiescence.

As there were no further questions, the four ninja slipped into the enemy encampment under the cover of night. Splitting up, they silently commenced their systematic slaughter.

The dark-haired adolescent stole into the first crudely built cabin. There, she found a middle aged man asleep on a cot.

Kiyo extended her empty hand. She coaxed her body's energy to her palm and molded it into the form of a pale blue chakra blade. As she closed her fingers around her newly created weapon, the words of her old Academy teacher rose up in her mind, unbidden.

"_As ninja it's inevitable that, to protect those around you, you will have to take life." _

_Sensei paused in his last lecture to his graduates, his gaze sweeping over each of them before turning downward. He looked sad, very sad, and eight-year-old Kiyo frowned because she didn't understand why._

Umino Iruka had not been her sensei for over four years now, yet some of his statements were as fresh in her mind today as the day he'd spoken them.

Iruka-sensei had been a strict teacher. Loud, too. When he yelled, it rumbled through the Academy building. Yet in all the time she'd spent with him- from the day she stepped into the academy at age five, until she graduated three years later- it was the words he'd spoken quietly that ingrained themselves in her memory.

Sensei got loud when his class was misbehaving, or perhaps just underachieving. But when sensei got _quiet_… that was something different. Something serious.

"_There will come a day when you will need to kill for the sake of our village. This is _never _easy," _

Kiyo's target shifted restlessly in fitful sleep, as though his subconscious sensed the danger. It took only a moment, and a quick slit of his throat, to ensure that he would never move again.

It was rather easy.

_When Iruka finally looked up at them again, there was a new hardness in his gaze. "Yet, despite the difficulty of the shinobi life, there is honor in performing our duty..."_

The blood had scarcely begun to flow before Kiyo was off, methodically searching the dwelling for another occupant.

She found it in the form of a sleeping toddler- blissfully ignorant of the danger lurking over his bed.

"_Never lose sight of that, graduates," Iruka quietly urged. "When you're out on your missions, please, don't forget that deep sense of fulfillment that comes with doing what you must to defend your village and the ones you love." _

Swiftly, Kiyo slit this throat also. The child passed from life to death with barely a gurgle.

This time the young jounin paused and stood over the fresh remains, waiting. For several long minutes, she watched the dark pool of blood spread under the chubby toddler body.

And yet, the promised sense of fulfillment never came.

"Sensei…you damn liar," she cursed, before moving off in search of her next victim.


	2. Chapter 2

As the sun sank lower, Iruka leaned toward his nightstand and flicked on the squat table lamp. The prison records on his lap nearly slid to the ground, but he snatched them up before they could scatter.

Brow furrowed in concentration, the sensei checked the figures on the pages. Off in the far corner of the room, his messenger bag filled with student assignments lay unattended. Normally the academy teacher would be grading essays or preparing exam material. Tonight, he had his own test for which to prepare.

With a grim nod, he confirmed his earlier suspicions. A disproportionate number of Konoha's Maximum Security prisoners had been early graduates of the Academy.

Iruka jotted more notes on the report he was meticulously preparing. Next week, he would make his presentation before Tsunade, the Konoha Council, and the Department of Education. The motion to be discussed: imposing a minimum age restriction on Academy graduation.

It was a radical proposal, Iruka knew- garnering support would be next to impossible. Konoha was proud of their child prodigies. By petitioning for a graduation age limit of no younger than eleven years, Iruka was rebelling against an ingrained, decades-old system of thinking. But then, the sensei thought with a wistful smile, he wouldn't be the first Umino to do so.

Iruka had heard of his father's attempts to reform the Kirigakure education system. He was proud of Kajiki's bravery in speaking out against lethal Academy graduation rituals. True- his father had been forced to flee the country under threat of assassination as a result, but that was beside the point.

A soft tapping noise from his living room pulled the chunin from his thoughts. He sprang from the bed, the documents on his lap spilling to the floor. He barely spared them a glance as he stepped over the books and scrolls littering his floor and rushed into the other room.

A glance at the window confirmed that it was indeed the visitor he'd been waiting on for almost a week.

Iruka helped the injured jounin into his apartment and managed a smile. Though it pained him to see Kakashi in such a battered state, it was always a relief that the Copy Ninja made it home from his missions at all.

"Late, as always," Iruka remarked, guiding the jounin onto the couch. His smile slipped slightly as he noticed the uncharacteristic blankness in his friend's eye. Kakashi hadn't spoken a word since his arrival.

"I'll be right back with the medical kit," Iruka said, receiving no response.

The chunin nervously retrieved his supplies and returned to Kakashi's side. He removed the jounin's hitai-ate to get a better look at the man's most obvious injury- a sluggishly bleeding head wound.

Iruka winced sympathetically at the evidence of a heavy blow to the skull with a blunt object. "Oi, Kakashi, I know you have a hard head, but you still shouldn't use it block attacks."

The jibe failed to elicit any reaction from the jounin and Iruka's precarious smile fell completely. Taking a seat on the coffee table, the chunin leaned forward and carefully pried open Kakashi's left eyelid so he could compare both pupils. Confirming that they were equally-sized, Iruka caused his hand to glow with chakra and waved it before the other's eyes, watching the pupils constrict normally in response to the additional light. Finally, he allowed the Sharingan to close again.

Hopefully this was nothing worse than a mild concussion.

The sensei finished treating and dressing the head wound. He then used a kunai to rip through the blood-soaked material of Kakashi's shirt, peeling it back to examine the wounds on his torso. Iruka glanced up at Kakashi's face, wondering if the man was going to break his silence. "You were banged up pretty badly. What happened?"

No response was forthcoming. A knot formed in the chunin's stomach as he recalled from his research that early Academy graduates were 20% more likely to suffer irreversible, debilitating injuries by the age of 25.

Kakashi was 28.

"Kakashi," Iruka straightened and looked him in the eye. "What's my name?"

The jounin stared at him with a blank eye. However, his speech was clear when he answered, "Umino Iruka."

The chunin held out his hand. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Four," Kakashi replied in the same monotonous tone.

"Do you know where you are?" Iruka pressed, looking for signs of confusion or memory loss.

"Fire Country. Konohagakure. Your apartment."

"And from where did you just return?"

"You can read all about it when I hand in the report."

The sensei nodded, somewhat comforted by the cheeky remark. He proceeded to set Kakashi's broken arm, and bind the man's cracked ribs. Several minutes passed as he worked, neither of them saying a word. Iruka was not one to fill every moment with chatter, but something about his comrade's silence unnerved him. "Are you experiencing dizziness? Headache?"

"No."

"Nausea?"

The jounin sighed. "I'm not concussed, Iruka-sensei."

"At least not severely," Iruka conceded. "All the same, you're going to have to stay here so I can monitor your condition."

Kakashi shrugged slightly and looked up at the ceiling. "Why waste your time?" he murmured, more to himself than his comrade.

"Hey, why would you say something like that?" Iruka chided. He would have smacked the man's head, if he wasn't so worried about possible brain damage. "You're never a waste of time."

Kakashi continued staring at the ceiling tiles while the chunin finished up his treatment. Iruka was pleased to find that he was getting better at knitting bone together with chakra. While the mended area was extremely fragile and easily re-broken, he could at least speed up the healing process.

It was ironic, really. He spent most of his days within the village walls, and yet Iruka got more hands-on experience than most field medics on active duty, simply because he had Kakashi as his patient.

* * *

Two hours later, Iruka decided to check on the jounin again. Opening the door to the guest room, he found Kakashi still awake, sitting up in bed with his visible eye as blank as ever.

"Would you like something to eat?" Iruka offered once again.

He didn't move or turn to look. "No."

After a moment's hesitation, Iruka stepped in and sat down beside the jounin. "Kakashi… what's wrong?"

"Can't sleep."

"Are you in pain? Should I get some more medicine?"

Kakashi shrugged apathetically.

Iruka rubbed his scar uneasily. "Your mission didn't go well, did it?"

When the jounin's muscles corded tightly, he knew he had touched on the source of Kakashi's strange behavior. Iruka said nothing else. He waited, giving the other man room to speak.

"It was a hard mission."

Iruka nodded, knowing Kakashi wasn't talking about the assignment's S-rank. He waited patiently for more.

"I couldn't save him," the Copy Nin said at last. Though quiet, the contempt in his voice was clear.

_Couldn't save…who?_

Iruka's heart sank as he recalled just who had been partnered with Kakashi for this most recent assignment.

Wataru was an older jounin with a winsome smile and many ties to the ninja of Konoha. Iruka remembered him fondly. More affable and grounded than most jounin, he had personally trained five genin teams over the years, and indirectly had a hand in the instruction of many more. "Do you mean that Wataru is…?"

"Dead."

The sensei swallowed. "I'm so sorry."

Kakashi's eyebrows drew together. "_You_ have nothing to be sorry about."

"But _you _do?" Iruka asked somewhat challengingly. "Because you couldn't save him?"

Kakashi looked away.

"Tch," the chunin shook his head. "Let me reacquaint you with reality. You're only human, Kakashi. Elite jounin prodigy that you are…you're _still_ only human."

"I'm well aware of that." Kakashi's voice was tight as he pushed the words past his throat. "But other people shouldn't have to die for my mistakes. I… Damn it_, I_ should be the one dead right now. Why…" a shuddering breath escaped his lips, "Why the hell did Wataru…I _never _asked him to…" The shuddering spread through the jounin's body and he lowered his face into his hands, making an effort to compose himself.

Instinctively, Iruka drew an arm around the distraught form. He didn't know what had happened but, from what he knew about Wataru and from what Kakashi had just said, he could very well guess. "You don't need to _ask_ someone to sacrifice. That's something we do for each another, because we're comrades."

The jounin shrugged the arm off from around his shoulders. "Iruka, I'm not one of your students. You can't fix this for me with kind words and a hug."

"What makes you think I can do that for my students?" The chunin sighed, leaning his back against the headboard in resignation.

They remained like that for several minutes, side by side, lost in their own thoughts.

Finally, Iruka glanced sideways at the jounin and asked, "What about popsicles? Do you think that would help- because I keep some in my freezer for just such an occasion."

That responding snort was not really a laugh, but Iruka would take what he could get.

Silence stretched between them, and it became apparent that the jounin was not inclined to speak any more. Iruka clapped his shoulder before withdrawing from the room. "Try to get some sleep, Kakashi. And, please, keep in mind that Wataru was not a naïve man. He's been a jounin longer than you've been alive. He knew exactly what he was doing when he made his decision, and he wouldn't want you to feel guilty about it."

Just before stepping out, he added, "I might not be able to fix anything... but I'm here if you want to talk, all right?"

"Yeah," Kakashi grunted shortly in reply.

Iruka knew there would be no further discussion on the matter.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note:

Cameos by obscure Konoha shinobi ahead.  
Feel free to glance at Narutopedia for the following canonical minor characters who make an appearance in this chapter:

1. **Hamaki** – Jounin – Veteran of 3rd Great Shinobi War  
2. **Mozuku** – Chunin – Intelligence & Interrogation  
3. **Shiho** – Cryptographer – Konoha Cryptanalysis Squad  
4. **Yajirobee** – Chunin (For this story, specializing in psychology)

Also showing up is Ara Nami, a recurring ANBU character in this series. Again, prior reading is not essential, but for those curious she first appears in Part I, Chapter 3 of "Not Over Til The Paperwork Is In."

* * *

_"When a person dies, the only part of himself that remains alive is that which he'd given to others."_  
_~Umino Iruka, "Sharpening Iron" Ch 4_

By the time the memorial service commenced, Kakashi was no longer the blank-eyed creature that appeared in Iruka's apartment. Such loss was, unfortunately, too routine to allow for extended periods of mourning. Ninja who couldn't quickly find a way to function under such a burden never lasted long. And Kakashi had already endured longer than many.

The sun was obscenely bright as eulogies were pronounced. Not even the weather could find it in itself to mourn something so commonplace as a shinobi funeral.

Iruka's eyes searched the crowd. He saw Wataru's widow, a grey-haired civilian, and the only one present who wept unreservedly at her loss.

The sensei also noticed the solemn eyes of a man from Wataru's very first genin team. Hamaki was a war hero- one of only four shinobi to survive a pinnacle battle near the Kannabi Bridge- and now the only living person of the original Team 5.

He spotted members of the elder's subsequent teams, until finally Iruka's eyes alighted on the most recent formation to bear the Team Wataru name.

The two teenagers were former pre-genin students of Iruka's, and both had since advanced to chunin rank. Try as he might, Iruka could not spot the third member of their team and wondered what could have kept her from the memorial service.

While the chunin's eyes scanned the crowd and observed the people, Kakashi's eye remained fixed on the Memorial Stone. He dared not avert his gaze as Wataru's name was engraved onto its gleaming surface. The chisel that bit into the stone simultaneously carved that name into the fleshy table of Kakashi's heart. He compartmentalized his sorrow, keeping it locked and buried until such a time he would choose the dig it back up again. Another memory to reflect upon in his morning vigil, of another comrade who'd traded their life for his.

The newly widowed woman's cry rang in his ears, and Kakashi couldn't help but think, '_What a waste_.'

* * *

"Shiho! Mozuku!" Iruka called to the retreating forms of his former students. From among the crowd of those leaving the service, two teenagers turned at the sound of their names.

"Iruka-sensei." Shiho bowed, her blonde, fly-away hair spilling over the shoulders of her funeral garment. Mozuku nodded his greeting.

"I'm very sorry for your lo-" the older chunin began, but was abruptly cut off by the older teen.

"People die. It's just part of life, you know," Mozuku shrugged dismissively, though his flippancy was belied by the strained lines of his face.

"Yes, that's true," Iruka acknowledged. This was not the first major loss in either of these young people's lives. "But that doesn't mean it's easy to bear, does it?"

Neither one answered, so the sensei pressed on. "It's been too long since we last caught up. Maybe we could talk over ramen? It will be my treat, of course."

"Sure- we'd like that. _Right,_ Mozuku?" Shiho elbowed her companion's side, trying to wheedle an agreement from the sullen youth.

"Yeah, sure…whatever."

"Good," Iruka paused before deciding to inquire about their absent third squad member. "What about Kiyo? I didn't see her today. Do you know where she is?"

The eighteen-year-old scoffed, emotion finally coloring his tone. "Who cares?"

"_Mozuku!_" Shiho chided sharply, before turning back to her old teacher. "I'm sorry, Iruka-sensei, but neither of us have heard from Kiyo since she advanced to jounin."

"She's suddenly too good for us, because _she _got promoted to jounin before hitting puberty." Graduating from the Academy a year later than most, Mozuku had been a bit sensitive about Iruka's decision to place him on the same team with an eight-year-old genius. Clearly it was still a lingering issue.

"I'm sure she's busy with her work," Shiho stated appeasingly. "In fact, I think she's away on a mission. If Kiyo were in Konoha, you know she wouldn't have missed Wataru-sensei's funeral."

"Wouldn't she?" Mozuku challenged coolly. Shiho was intelligent, with a strong handle on decoding and data, but as a member of Konoha's interrogation unit, Mozuku had a better grasp of interpreting _people_.

Iruka felt a tendril of worry coil in his chest. Kiyo was one the few early graduates of his teaching career. Undoubtedly, Kiyo had been skilled enough to merit her genin status. At the time, Iruka would have defended his decision to promote her. But now the sensei wondered…had she been mentally capable of stepping out into the shinobi world? Was she mature enough to face its hardships? Iruka could only hope so.

Shiho and Mozuku fussed and bickered some more, but the sensei barely processed their words.

If the now twelve-year-old Kiyo was shunning her teammates, did it mean she was withdrawing herself from society? Who would she turn to when she arrived from her mission to find her jounin-sensei dead?

"-ensei? Iruka-sensei?" Shiho repeated, frowning in concern at the older chunin.

"Hm? Oh, I'm sorry…I was just thinking…"

"Yeah, we could see that," Mozuku said. "Looks like it hurt, thinking so hard."

Iruka chuckled and grasped the teen's shoulder. "Come on, smart-aleck. You both still like Ichiraku's, right?"

* * *

Miles from the memorial site, Raccoon waited in the conference room for her psychologist's return. He claimed they had "issues" to discuss, and the ANBU was anxious to know what that meant.

It was no secret that the psych nin considered her unstable. A MIRF ninja- Mildly Insane yet Reasonably Functional. As such, Raccoon had to toe the line or risk being deemed unsuitable for service.

When her psychologist returned, Raccoon forced herself not to clench her hands in anticipation.

Deceptively mild. That was the only way to describe Yajirobee's features. Placid dark eyes framed by oversized glasses, short sandy brown hair, chapped lips, and a narrow jaw. This was the face of the man who brazenly tackled the inner demons of half the ANBU population. The one who judged how closely an agent was allowed to skirt the brink of insanity before having to be pulled back. The man who wore a specialized memory sealing helmet at the end of each work day to secure respite from the suffocating darkness, and who willingly removed it upon returning the following morning.

"Thank you for your patience, Nami." Yajirobee took his seat, setting a plain manila folder on the surface in front of him.

"The name's Raccoon," the ANBU reminded him with a clipped tone.

"Your code name, yes," the bespectacled man agreed with a disarming tone. Everything about him was meant to be non-threatening- his voice, his small stature, even his old-fashioned Konoha flak jacket that lacked any scroll pouches or neck guard. "But your birth records read 'Ara Nami.'"

Raccoon glared down at her hands. He'd never insisted on using her birth name before.

Yajirobee opened the folder before him and loosely clasped his hands together as he gathered his thoughts. With Raccoon, it was best to get directly to the point. "Based on our last evaluation, Nami, I have issued a recommendation for your discharge from the ANBU ranks."

"You _what!_" Raccoon growled, rage burning in her veins. "_Why?_"

Yajirobee's face was suddenly much closer to hers, and only belated did the kunoichi realize that she'd pinned him against the wall, one arm shoved painfully against his ribs while her other hand grasped a fistful of his hair.

The psych nin's expression remained even, his eyes calmly gazing at her. Displaying fear was a rookie's mistake, and Yajirobee was no rookie. He made no noise or movement until he determined that Raccoon was once again situationally aware.

"Your tendency for unconsciously violent reactions was one consideration," he offered at length.

With a disgusted sigh, she lowered the man back onto the ground and reclaimed her seat.

"This is not a slight on your abilities, Nami," Yajirobee continued once he too was properly seated. The only evidence of the aggressive episode was his now disheveled hair. "You have served Konoha well in ANBU and we are confident you will continue to serve well out of it. This is just a transitional time for you..."

Raccoon glared into her lap. Yajirobee was still talking, but she paid only minimal attention. At least, until she heard the words "inactive duty" escape his lips. Her eyes snapped up in indignation.

"I thought you said I'd continue to serve Konoha!" Since the age of nine, she'd known nothing except the kunoichi life. If she was not a ninja, then she didn't know who she was.

"That's correct," Yajirobee nodded. "You _will_ continue to serve Konoha. But before you resume going on missions, you must re-acclimate yourself to other areas of life. That will involve a few months' leave from mission duties. A vacation, if you will."

"But…" Raccoon faltered as she tried to swallow the notion of months without missions. "What am I supposed to _do?_"

"An excellent question." Yajirobee seemed pleased that she'd asked. Pulling out a sheet of paper from his file, he continued, "I have a few projects for you to work on during inactive duty. Once you've made sufficient progress with each, we can resume your active status:

"First, I want you to develop your home. Make it a haven, a place in which you enjoy staying." Noting the confusion in her expression, he elaborated. "You'll be on paid leave, so why not buy items that would give it a more pleasant atmosphere? Maybe a decorative lamp or two, a comfortable rug, a bamboo plant, new curtains…anything that you would find visually appealing."

Raccoon nodded uncertainly, and Yajirobee pressed on. "Secondly, I want you to develop a hobby. Find something that you enjoy doing, _outside of your ninja duties_. This could be almost anything: painting, gardening, singing, swimming, photography… anything you would have fun doing or that relaxes you."

The kunoichi listened skeptically to the tasks assigned her. What good would a hobby do her on the battlefield? The psych nin did not notice or, most likely, did not acknowledge her displeasure. He pressed on.

"And finally, I want you to develop socially. Get to know someone better. Spend more time around people. Enjoy the company of others, whether it be watching a movie, going out to eat, or simply talking. Does this make sense?"

Yajirobee furrowed his brow at her lack of response. But it was gently that he inquired, "Are we listening, Nami?"

"Develop my home, develop a hobby, develop socially," the ex-ANBU rattled off quickly. "And if I do that, you'll let me go on missions?"

"Well, yes, but we-"

"Good," Nami crisply interrupted, rising to her feet and brushing past the other man on her way out.

The psych nin sighed and pressed a hand over his aching ribs. "I think she took that…rather well…"


	4. Chapter 4

Iruka approached the wrought iron gates of the compound. Seeing neither a guard nor anything meant for use as a signal, he wondered how to alert its occupants to his presence.

"Hello?" he called out tentatively.

Nothing.

"Hello!" The second call was louder, more forceful. Still, there was no answer.

The sensei sighed. The Kurai clan was comprised of notoriously private people. Even if they were aware of their visitor, it did not guarantee a response.

He eyed the ivy-covered bars of the gate and considered climbing. But then, what were the chances that doing so _wouldn't_ trigger a security trap? Iruka was fond of having all his limbs.

"Is anyone there?" the chunin tried calling out a third time.

He normally didn't call on the Kurai clan, but the Mission Room records indicated that his former student, Kiyo, had returned from her assignment just this morning. He felt compelled to check on her… Surely by now she'd heard about her jounin sensei's death?

"This is Iruka-sensei!" He shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth to help carry the sound. "I'm here to see Kiyo."

"Well you don't have to yell."

Iruka turned upon hearing the soft voice behind him. "Kiyo! I…didn't notice you there…" His cheeks flamed at having been caught off-guard by a twelve year old.

The young jounin made no move to respond. She stood still, blinking up at him with owlish dark eyes. Kiyo looked different from the round-faced child Iruka remembered. Sure, she'd gotten taller in the last four years. She'd let her thick brown tresses grow to the middle of her back, keeping them bound in a tight braid. Her frame was lankier, as though she hadn't eaten properly in a while. But it was the new emptiness in her gaze that caught the sensei's attention and made his chest tighten with emotion. She was much too young to be sporting Kakashi's eyes.

"You're here because Wataru-sensei died," the adolescent interjected finally. "You're checking up on me."

There was no annoyance or accusation in her tone. Rather she was calculating and matter-of-fact, as she always had been. Iruka well remembered how judicious the young girl had been in his class- sharply observant and quick to pick up on subtle details.

"I'm concerned for you," Iruka admitted. "You've lost contact with your old teammates, and now with Wataru gone…"

"I'm a jounin," Kiyo reasoned, "I don't need my old team anymore. If I grow apart from them, or if they die, it's nothing to be concerned about. I'm fully capable of functioning without them." With a hint of defensiveness, she concluded, "You can rest assured it won't compromise my abilities as a ninja of Konoha."

Iruka smiled warmly. "Perhaps it's not your abilities as a ninja that I'm concerned about."

The youth's brow crinkled in confusion before smoothing out into a blank slate. "Oh," was all she could think to say.

Despite her ineloquent response, Iruka's smile brightened. "So, may I come in?"

* * *

Iruka accepted the cup of tea from Kiyo's mother, bowing his head politely in thanks. If she felt annoyance at her unexpected visitor she did not show it. Rather, the Kurai elder regaled him with stories of the impressive progress her daughter was making in her kunoichi career.

"Did you know, Iruka-sensei, that Kiyo is a candidate to join the accelerated track to becoming an ANBU?" Lady Kurai continued with obvious pride in her voice.

"Already?" Iruka's eyes flicked over to the girl seated at the other end of the wooden table. "Didn't you just recently become a jounin?"

"Yes, she did!" her mother supplied with much satisfaction. "Kiyo is our prodigy- the pride of the Kurai clan."

"She's accomplished much since leaving my care," Iruka conceded.

The subject of their conversation continued to nurse the cup of tea in her hands, offering neither comment nor reaction. Kiyo seemed bored, as though she often had to endure listening to her mother brag about her.

"She's grown so quickly. I dare say you'd hardly recognize her as the same person, Iruka-sensei!" the elder Kurai chirped happily. "Although she _has_ clung to one bad habit from her school days."

Kiyo's small hands tightened around her teacup. Iruka didn't miss the reaction. His students, past or present, hated it when parents laid bare their faults to him.

Iruka rubbed the back of his neck, "Oh? I don't believe I recall any bad habits from Kiyo's time in the Academy."

"How kind of you, sensei! I'm sorry to say that she _insists_ on continuing with her silly art obsession!" Lady Kurai flicked her wrist dismissively. "She withdraws into her room for hours, puttering around with her paints and pencils. I tell her all the time; 'Kiyo, you shouldn't waste all that time and energy on such an insensible hobby! You could be training more.'"

The mother shook her head exasperatedly, "But does she listen to _me_? I tell her art won't take her anywhere in life, but you know kids, Iruka-sensei. Put a hitai-ate on 'em and they think they know better than their elders."

Kiyo seemed to become increasingly fascinated with her tea, staring at it intently as her mother spoke.

Iruka recalled his former student's strong affinity for art. Often he had chided her for sketching in class, when she was supposed to be taking notes. He finally gave up when he realized Kiyo didn't _need_ to take notes to excel at every subject. And at home, among the drawer-full of stick figure images and doodled landscapes he'd been gifted over the years, lay an amazingly lifelike portrait of himself. Kiyo gave him that particular sketch, and Iruka had been amazed at the uncanny likeness.

"Maybe _you_ can talk some sense into her," Kurai suggested. "Tell her, Iruka-sensei. Tell her that she needs to eliminate worthless distractions if she's going to be a great ninja of Konoha."

Iruka blinked at the elder's request and brought his cup to his lips, sipping slowly as he gathered his thoughts. The youth kept her eyes downcast. The clanswoman looked at him expectantly.

Finally he cleared his throat. "Your mother's right, Kiyo; a ninja can't afford to be distracted."

He took another sip to hide the smile tugging at the corner of his lips before continuing, "That being said, most skills are useful to a ninja, one way or another. Artistic ability is no exception."

Turning back to Lady Kurai, he explained, "Kiyo would be an asset if her team needed to map terrain or construct diagrams of previously unknown areas, since she has a well developed sense of proportion and scale. She would also be able to sketch suspects and targets from memory." He smiled at the girl. "If I recall correctly, you've got tremendous talent for portraits."

Kiyo's lips were pressed in a neutral line as she nodded, but Iruka didn't miss the way her eyes lit up at the praise.

"In fact," Iruka continued, "It's almost certainly the observational skills she gained and developed through artwork that helped catapult her up the ninja ranks. The henge technique, for example, relies heavy on observation for successful execution."

"Indeed," Lady Kurai said stiffly, rising from her seat. "Well, it was kind of you to visit, Iruka-sensei. We won't take up any more of your time."

"It was a pleasure," Iruka stood as well, inclining his head politely.

"Kiyo, show our guest the way out."

Once the two were out of earshot, Iruka sighed. "I believe I upset your mother."

"It's not hard to do."

The sensei chuckled at the dry response. "Kiyo, before I go, would you mind showing me some of your art? I'm curious to see what you're working on these days."

For the first time that night, a genuine grin spread across the girl's face. "Sure!"

* * *

Kakashi's exposed eye critically examined the blade in his hand. With a low, considering hum he reached for the sharpening file and ran it over the fine edge. After several strokes with the iron, the jounin re-evaluated the weapon. Finding it honed to his liking, he replaced the kunai in its leather pouch and stood with a lazy stretch.

He was due at the Hokage Tower in twenty minutes to undergo a briefing before his mission tomorrow morning. Having done all the preparation he could in the interim, Kakashi was left with nothing to do but head out to the meeting. He would even be early this time- a rare feat indeed.

As the jounin ambled along one of Konoha's less-traveled paths, he found his way unexpectedly barred.

Raccoon stood before him, fists set on her hips and determination on her maskless face. Despite being head and shoulders taller than the lithe female, Kakashi was loath to force his way past his former ANBU squadmate. "Nami…did you need something?"

The kunoichi's lips thinned into a grim line as her eyes bore into him. Finally, in a clipped tone, she demanded- "Have dinner with me."

Kakashi raised a silver brow in surprise, before closing his eye in a suggestion of a smile. "I'll have to decline. I'm actually on my way to the Hokage tower to…"

With a scowl, she grabbed his arm and proceeded to bodily drag her victim toward a restaurant. "That _wasn't_ a question."

For the moment, the Copy Nin decided to humor her. Raccoon had never asked, or rather, _demanded_ to have a meal with him before. She was not one for frivolities and outings. There had to be a reason for this abrupt interception.

Curiously, he followed her into an expensive establishment. Instead of waiting to be seated by the waiter, she led him to a high-walled private booth toward the back, where two steaming bowls of miso soup and platters of ongiri were already waiting for them.

Raccoon's aggression receded now that Kakashi was cooperating. She took her own seat, waiting for her unwilling dinner guest to do the same. As soon as he did so, she commenced eating without so much as an "Itadakimasu."

Kakashi waited. The kunoichi had clearly prepared ahead. Somehow, she knew to expect him in this area and she'd ordered the food before his arrival. She'd chosen a spot that afforded them both privacy. Spying and strategizing were definitely involved in her make such arrangements.

Raccoon looked up from her plate, flicking her eyes between the untouched food and Kakashi. "What are you waiting for? Eat."

"So, why exactly-"

"_Eat_," she interrupted firmly, bringing her attention back to her soup.

The silver haired jounin looked around. With the high walls of their booth, it would be difficult for anyone to catch sight of him maskless. Nevertheless, he ate in his usual, swift manner. The next time Raccoon raised her eyes, his food was gone.

The kunoichi continued with her meal in silence. Clearly she had no intention of speaking yet. While he waited, Kakashi withdrew his book from its pouch. If this offended her, Raccoon did not show it.

The two jounin sat in silence- one reading the pages of a bright orange novel, the other eating at a reasonable, efficient pace.

At last, Raccoon cleared her plate. With a satisfied sigh, she set down her utensils and withdrew a fair amount of money from her pouch. "Goodbye, Kakashi-sempai," she stated politely, standing to leave.

"Wait," this time it was Kakashi's hand gripping the other's arm. He tugged her back down into her seat. "You didn't tell me what you wanted."

The ANBU's lips stretched in a smile that reached none of her other features. "Only your company."

"You wanted my company?" he repeated skeptically.

"Is that so hard to believe?"

"Well, you did more or less ignore me the entire time," Kakashi pointed out reasonably.

Raccoon's paltry smile dropped as she let out a longsuffering sigh, as though finding the whole situation tiresome. "But we were together, weren't we? Surely that counts."

"Counts for what?"

"I've…" For a moment, her expression crumpled in dejection. However, she quickly rallied and her mask of calm settled back into place. "I've been discharged from ANBU."

Suddenly it made sense. After all, Kakashi had experienced a discharge himself. "You'll adapt," the former ANBU Captain assured.

"But _how_? I've never felt so...useless. They won't even let me go on standard missions- until I complete their foolish assignments!" Nami burst out, driving her fist into the table.

"I know, I know," Kakashi raised his hands in a placating manner, not wanting her to break the furniture in her agitation. "Those psych nin can be a pain, but they mean well. Just try to go along with them."

She ran a hand through her dark indigo locks, huffing in frustration. "I don't know how you did it, sempai. How do you even '_develop your home_?' I visited a few shops, but didn't know where to begin. The salespeople aggravated me with questions about what style I wanted, or what my décor is like, what furnishing I used, what colors I had in mind. I…I just had to get out of there."

The former ANBU felt ashamed of her retreat. She reluctantly looked up at her former Captain, but found no reproach in his eyes. His lack of censure emboldened her. Kakashi had guided her when she first joined the ANBU ranks, and though he was two years her junior, she greatly valued his opinion. "What did _you_ do, sempai?"

"I bought a house plant."

"Just one plant?"

The jounin nodded. "Named him 'Mr. Ukki.'"

"Oh…" Nami stared at him thoughtfully. That seemed easy enough. And a plant was useful in improving air quality. She didn't know why Kakashi had chosen to _name_ the thing, but she was too accustomed to his eccentricities to question it.

"What about a hobby, sempai? Did they ask you to take up a leisure activity as well?"

The ninja lifted his book demonstratively.

Yajirobee _had _mentioned reading as one of the options. So that made sense.

"And what about the social part?" She prompted, wanting to know how her reclusive sempai tackled that aspect of the assignment.

"I believe I already told you about Mr. Ukki?"

Nami's nose wrinkled as she blinked at him. "I thought you said Mr. Ukki is your plant?"

"He is."

"And it counted?"

"Mmm, well, only until the psych nin found out he's a plant," Kakashi admitted. "Gai and his challenges helped me along as well. Ultimately, I just couldn't be spared from the battlefield for long, and the Third had to send me out, whether I'd properly completed the assignments or not."

Nami frowned at this. She doubted she'd get off so easily. She was not as skilled, and therefore not as vital to the village survival, as Kakashi. Without an active war driving demand, she could be spared from missions much longer.

Clearly the fastest way to regain her active duty status was to complete her assignment. Starting a war would be frowned upon.

With that in mind, she crisply informed Kakashi, "You're having dinner with me again tomorrow."

He chuckled. "I'd love to continue enjoying your company, but unfortunately I'm leaving for a mission early tomorrow morning."

"Next week, then," she persisted.

"I'm not due to return for a month."

Her shoulders slumped very slightly. "So long? I wanted to get this over with quickly."

Kakashi watched her, feeling sympathy for her plight. "I'm not the only person in this village, Nami. Find someone else."

"Who?" she demanded. With some bitterness she added, "My squadmates are also busy with their missions."

Kakashi considered this. The former ANBU was not entirely stable yet, so befriending a civilian was too dangerous. But what shinobi did he know who could be expected to remain in the village for extended periods _and _be willing to spend time with a volatile ex-ANBU?

"How about Umino Iruka?" he suggested finally.

Nami scrunched her nose. "But…he's a _chunin_."

"So?" Kakashi countered. "He did well enough on that mission we had to deliver the scroll implanted in his body. And you were there to back him up, that time he used an experimental jutsu to extract poison from my system."

"He _has_ shown himself useful at times," Nami conceded. For a kunoichi who measured one's value through their utility, that was rather lofty praise.

"And since he teaches in the Academy, he spends most of his time in the village," Kakashi pointed out, "You'll have plenty of opportunity to get to know him."

Nami still seemed hesitant, so he added, "You have to admit, Iruka's at least better than a plant. The psych nin will actually count him."

The kunoichi bowed her head in acquiescence. Kakashi had never steered her wrongly before. "Very well, sempai. I'll get to know him."

* * *

Nearly an hour after he initially set off, Kakashi entered the Hokage's office. He was greeted by a sour faced Tsunade. "I thought I told you to be on time for this meeting."

The Copy Nin inclined his head apologetically. "Sorry about that. I was abducted by an ex-ANBU, and had to conduct an impromptu counseling session before I could get away."

"Spare me the lies, Kakashi," Tsunade snapped. "We have a mission to discuss."

* * *

Author's Note

I want to briefly share my joy and gratitude for the interest expressed by some of my long time readers. I knew, after all this time, not to expect to find many of my old readership still around. Thus, it's a thoroughly delightful surprise when a familiar name does appear.  
Of course, that in no way diminishes the value of the feedback given by newer readers. I'm delighted to hear from you all.

~WhyMustIWrite


	5. Chapter 5

"This is where I work on my art." Kiyo open the door and motioned her former sensei inside.

Iruka froze. Canvas upon canvas littered the room- some piled into stacks in the corners, others on the floor, leaning up against the walls. More finished paintings lay on her desk, her dresser, her bookshelves…every available space. A single work in progress was displayed prominently on an easel. Dried splatters of paint stained her floor. Several sketchbooks lay across her bed, along with varying types of pencils, charcoals, brushes, and other tools.

But this was not why Iruka stared wide-eyed into the room, unconsciously gripping the doorknob with a white-knuckled fist.

Taking a calming breath, the sensei entered the room. He paused by the first painting propped up against the cluttered walls. The anguish on the painted shinobi's face stood stark clear. His abdomen was split wide open, and his hands futilely tried to stop his organs from spilling out of the gaping wound.

Swallowing back the bile that had risen in his throat, he examined the next one. It looked like the aftermath of a village in a war zone. Mounds of rotting garbage decayed on the streets. Shirtless children, little more than pale skin stretched over bones, picked through the trash for something to eat. Adults with missing limbs and septic wounds lay helplessly, their frozen faces crying out for relief from the pain. Rats and maggots feasted on the remains of the dead.

Iruka walked past a few more, glancing at the ghastly scenes but directing his focus toward the work-in-progress on the easel. At first glace, this piece looked refreshingly serene: a toddler, asleep in his bed. Upon closer examination, he noticed the weeping scarlet gash on the boy's throat and the dark blue sheets beneath stained black with blood.

"Well?" Kiyo prompted, clasping her elbows nervously as she waited for his verdict.

His first attempt to speak was unsuccessful. Iruka swallowed and tried again. "It's…very realistic."

A pleased grin lit up her features. "You think so?"

"Yes, I…" He swallowed. "The details are amazing. I feel like I'm visiting the scene myself."

Her arms relaxed, and she gestured at the canvas. "My textures have improved," she announced with satisfaction, "and I'm really pleased with the shading."

"No doubt you're very talented," Iruka agreed, "But…is _all _your art like this?"

"I'm not sure what you mean," Kiyo's eyes flicked from one canvas to the next. "I've experimented a lot- using oils, watercolors, charcoal, pencil. I'll show you more." She looked up at him and hesitated, studying his features. "Or maybe I shouldn't? Perhaps it's too much for you."

"Now what's _that's_ supposed to mean?" Iruka said, crossing his arms.

She shrugged. "You've got that look on your face. The ill sort of look a rookie has, when he can't deal with a mission."

He let out a bark of dry laughter, crouching down to match her height and playfully flicking her ear. "Don't even start. I happen to be thirteen years your senior- more than _twice _your age. I've had plenty of dealings with the darker sides of shinobi life."

"Perhaps," Kiyo conceded. "But it still bothers you. I can tell."

Iruka did not deny it, although the paintings themselves were not the main source of his unease. What troubled him most was how it _didn't_ bother the young girl before him. That she looked on them, appraising the shading and texture, without sparing a thought to the horror they depicted. How could she _sleep_ in this room, surrounded by these gruesome expanses of canvas?

"Kiyo, what about the things you drew in the Academy? The forest landscapes, the portraits of your classmates, the sunrise over the Hokage monument…" he stopped himself before he became emotional. She would only see it as a sign of weakness. "Do you still create things like that?"

The jounin's eyes gave away nothing as she considered her former sensei's words. Finally she sighed and turned to one of the stacks of canvases. Her fingers trailed along the cream colored edges and came to rest on one painting near the bottom of the pile. Carefully, she eased this work out from under the rest.

Kiyo held it in front of her, studying it carefully before finally stepping forward to hand it to the sensei.

"This one is called 'Sunflower Field,'" she confided.

Iruka flipped the piece toward him. It was indeed a field of sunflowers.

The vivid yellow petals were marred with deep red blood that glistened sickeningly in the bright sunlight. Portions of the field were pock-marked and scarred with leftover evidence of a jutsu battle. Several of the proud sunflowers had their thick stalks snapped in half, and bowed with their faces in the dirt, mimicking fallen soldiers. Bits of gore dripped from the broad leaves in mockery of dew.

"It's how they all come out," the young assassin explained simply. "I can't help it. It's like, even in my art, the only thing I'm good at creating is death."

"Kiyo," His shaking hands dropped the grotesque landscape and pulled her into a hug. "Kiyo, I'm so sorry," he whispered brokenly.

The girl glanced up at him questioningly."For what?"

It was only later that night, alone in his home, that Iruka allowed himself to cry for her. For her loss of innocence. For her immersion in death. Mostly, he cried because no one else was going to- least of all herself.

* * *

Iruka stood before the gathered officials, slightly breathless from having delivered his presentation on the danger of pushing their youth out of the Academy and into field work at an early age. The sensei studied the features of the men and women before him, trying to discern if he had swayed them at all.

The thoughtful expressions on the members of the Board of Education told him that he may have struck a chord there.

The members of the Hokage's Council were more difficult to read- faces a carefully schooled mask of reserve.

The Fifth Hokage's lips were quirked in a fond sort of smirk. Clearly, their leader was at least amused by the efforts of this upstart, protective Academy teacher. Whether she took him seriously was another question entirely.

Iruka lifted his chin, determined to see this through. "In light of these facts, I've proposed that Academy graduation be legally restricted to children age eleven and older."

There was no immediate response, though a few glances were exchanged among the Board members.

"Iruka-sensei," the treasurer of the Board finally responded, "Even if we wanted to entertain this proposal- you've neglected to consider the economic burden to our village. It takes money to educate children in the Academy. If we add advanced-level classes for gifted students as you suggested, that would require even more money. Apart from the upfront cost of education, each additional year that graduation is postponed is a year that income is _not_ being earned through missions."

He faltered momentarily. It was true; the current Academy budget would not accommodate the sort of classes he was proposing. Still, budgets could be reworked, and the sensei liked to think, perhaps naively, that the welfare of the village's children came before that of its coffers.

"In the short term, you're right: it _will_ cost us financially. However," the young sensei quickly recovered his ground, "It's an investment that would ultimately generate more money in the long term. I just demonstrated that, statistically, our early graduates are 20% more likely to become disabled by the time they turn twenty-five. They are also 32% more likely to lose their sanity by that same age. Early graduates are _twice_ as likely to betray their village, become missing nin, or end up in prison. And the average early graduate has a life expectancy of only 27 years old!"

Belatedly, Iruka realized he was almost shouting. He restrained his emotion and continued in a more normal tone. "By adopting this proposal, we should expect to see the financial burden lighten for prison and psychiatric care. Overall, we get many more years of service, and thus more mission income, from a ninja who is given time to properly develop physically, mentally, and emotionally _before_ he is awarded a hitai-ate. And those extra years of service as a high-ranking ninja would far outstrip the income that would have been generated had they made genin a couple of years early. "

Despite the unexpected angle, Iruka felt optimistic. He was prepared. He was passionate about the issue. He would not be out-debated.

"But what about Kakashi?" a council member interjected.

Iruka blinked. "What about Kakashi?"

"Kakashi is twenty eight," he elaborated. "He is not disabled, insane, or incarcerated, and he's beat that life expectancy you just quoted."

"And _he_ graduated from the Academy earlier than anyone in the history of Konoha," an education board member added pointedly.

The sensei frowned. "Well, Kakashi is a…special case. There are always outliers in statistics."

"Well, then," the Head of the Board countered, "What about the other 'special cases'? Under the policy you propose, the next 'Kakashi' will be unnecessarily held back."

"You want to stifle our emerging young geniuses," a wizened councilor scolded. "Tossing stumbling blocks in front of the next 'Kakashi'… Shame on you!"

"I don't want to stifle them!" Iruka argued, trying to control his outrage. "We should be nurturing that genius, until they are psychologically capable of facing true fieldwork. Just because a six-year-old knows how to handle weapons and perform jutsu doesn't mean he belongs on the battlefield or that he can cope with its aftermath. In our search for the 'next Kakashi,' we'll destroy the lives of our youth."

"Have you considered that early graduates might face such tragic ends because they are more consistently placed in the most dangerous circumstances?" a bespectacled Board member suggested. "Age may have little to do with it."

"I have considered it," Iruka affirmed, glad to be back on solid facts. "But even when you compare, for instance, an early-graduate ANBU with other ANBU of similar rank and skill, you'll still find a markedly higher rate of mental breakdown and…"

"But _Kakashi_ spent twice as long in ANBU as the average soldier, and _he_ is still an invaluable, well-functioning…"

"I wasn't talking about _Kakashi_!"

* * *

The Copy Nin collected the finalized copy of his mission scroll and slipped it into his vest pocket. As he strode out of the Mission Room, for a moment could have sworn that he heard someone shouting his name.

Glancing down the long hallway, he noticed the closed and guarded doors of the Council Meeting Chambers. He wasn't sure what they'd be plotting this early in the morning, but the jounin could only hope they weren't having another discussion on how to get him married off and producing ninja prodigy spawn to protect Konoha in the generations to come.

Kakashi lingered, wondering if it would be worth eavesdropping, when the heavy oak door eased open. The meeting had adjourned, and a familiar form walked out first.

To the casual onlooker, Iruka-sensei would seem subdued. His gaze was lowered, his face meditative, and he strode briskly down the hall. But the subtle jaw movements as the chunin ground his teeth and the throbbing vein at his temple told Kakashi that the man was mere moments away from flying off the handle.

The jounin well understood the frustration of dealing with the bureaucrats and offered his unfortunate comrade a sympathetic smile. However, when Iruka's eyes landed upon the Copy Nin, his expression darkened. The sensei continued walking passed at his clipped pace.

With a loping, easy stride, Kakashi drew level with the raging chunin. "I see you're practicing the Uchiha glare. Could use some work, I think."

Iruka snorted and shot an unamused look at his uninvited companion.

"No, no, that's not quite it either," Kakashi mused. "You've got to glower more."

"Right. You would know, of course, because you're so infuriatingly _perfect_!"

"I try," Kakashi stated mildly. "Infuriating and perfect…it's a hard balance to strike."

Iruka's scowl finally gave way to a grudging smile- if the tightening at the edge of his lips could really be considered a smile. He wasn't usually this difficult to cheer up.

"Is that what you were discussing in the Council room? My apparent perfection?" Kakashi did, after all, still need to find out if a marriage conspiracy was in the works.

"Unfortunately, yes," the man responded bitterly. "We were _supposed_ to be discussing the issue of early graduation. Instead they spent the last quarter of the session lauding your many achievements." A noise that sounded suspiciously like a growl escaped the chunin's throat. "Do you have any idea how _frustrating_ it is…to have months…_months!_... of painstaking research shot down with the single argument that 'Kakashi did it!'"

"Ah…" the jounin shoved his hands into his pocket, trying to choose his words carefully. He was well aware of his friend's unusual campaign and indomitable drive to shelter his students. "You really need to let this one go, Iruka. There's no way you'll convince Konoha to restrict graduation by age. It's just not realistic."

"Why not?" the chunin challenged. "You know, in some countries, citizens aren't allowed to serve in the military until they turn eighteen. Why is it so unthinkable that we reserve ninja status to those eleven and older?"

"Because our country evaluates its citizens by their skill and capabilities," Kakashi pointed out. "We don't discriminate against their age."

"No, we just watch them fall apart instead," Iruka remarked morosely.

The jounin said nothing for long moments, letting the silence hang heavily between them. Even if he disagreed with the scope of the sensei's crusade, Kakashi recognized that the objections were not groundless. Konoha could be over-zealous in its search for child prodigies. And he wasn't naïve enough to believe this search was conducted with the child's best interests in mind.

Finally Kakashi sighed. "If it'll make you feel better, I'll return from this mission horrendously maimed. That should help your argument, right?"

The disgruntled look finally vanished from Iruka's face, to be replaced by startled horror. "Don't…don't even joke like that! What's wrong with you?" Worry clouded his expression. "They're already sending you out again? I wasn't informed." His voice took on a dangerous edge. "This isn't another one-man S-class, is it? I told Lady Hokage that, regardless of how shorthanded we are and how badly we need intel on Akatsuki, it's just too reckless to keep-"

"Mah, don't be so worried. It seems you won one argument, at least," Kakashi interrupted, indulging in a private smile as he realized it wasn't just his students that Iruka felt compelled to shelter. "I'm meeting my mission partner at the gate."

"Well, be careful," Iruka ordered sternly. "Because at this point, even a debilitating injury won't help my case with the Board. You've put in enough years of service that you beat out all injury and death statistics. The only thing you could do now is betray the village."

"All right, I'll keep that in mind, then" Kakashi winked. With a lazy hand sign, the jonin teleported away, but not so fast that he couldn't appreciate Iruka's annoyed exclamation of "_Not _funny!"


	6. Chapter 6

Kakashi wearily slid the window open, sensing the trap seals disengage in response to his chakra, as they always did at Iruka's apartment. He and his mission partner had managed to whittle their month-long assignment down to three weeks. An exhausting, energy crushing three weeks. Kakashi was looking forward to actual rest- not just the snatches of fragile sleep he stole between phases of his assignment.

As the jounin moved past the disengaged traps, he noticed they were recently upgraded. Kakashi could have sworn that these newest traps were deadly.

He paused to check that he was in the right apartment. The Academy sensei never set up lethal traps in his home- especially since the most likely person to attempt a break in would be a student looking for exam answers.

The Copy Nin slid the window shut behind him, raising his brow at the sharp blade poised in a hidden groove of the window frame.

Kakashi turned away from his entry point and barely took two steps before he was forced to dodge oncoming projectiles. Two kunai pierced the wall behind him with a dull _thunk_, blades lodging firmly into the wood.

Iruka appeared through the doorway, tense and alert. He studied the Copy Nin and relaxed. "Oh… it's you."

"Nice to see you too," Kakashi greeted dryly. Yanking a kunai out of the wall, he casually offered it back to its owner. "It seems I've finally worn out my welcome."

The chunin blushed. "Oh, no, not at all!" With a self-conscious laugh, he accepted the weapon and moved forward to dislodge the second blade from his wall. "You know you're always welcome! I just…well, I wasn't expecting you back this early."

Kakashi frowned. The sensei wasn't the type to attack first and ask questions later. Before he could inquire about the strange behavior, Iruka grabbed his arm and pulled him further into the living room. "Don't linger by the window; come on have a seat. Let's see what you've done to yourself this time."

His host all but shoved the older man onto the sofa before striding into the bathroom to grab a medical supply kit.

Exhausted though he was from his mission, Kakashi garnered the dregs of his chakra, testing their surroundings. The home was teeming with Iruka's traps. A soundproofing jutsu and sophisticated seal work ensured the privacy of their conversation. But besides the aura of Iruka's civilian neighbors, and those of the people passing on the streets, he could sense nothing. Certainly nothing remotely threatening.

"Iruka…what's wrong?"

"Wrong?" His voice could be heard from the bathroom. A cabinet door swung open and some rustling ensued before the chunin appeared again, medical kit in hand. "Nothing's wrong. Everything is perfectly fine."

With a determined smile, Iruka snapped open the kit and removed a sterile antiseptic cloth from its crisp silver packaging. Leaning forward, he reached to clean a bloodied wound peeking out from a large tear in the jounin's collar.

Kakashi grabbed the sensei's wrist, effectively halting the motion.

Iruka looked up questioningly. "What?"

"Your hands are shaking." Kakashi observed.

The chunin furrowed his brows and opened his mouth as though to contradict- but there was simply no denying the slight tremor of his captive hand.

"Why are you so edgy?" The jounin pressed. "Tell me what's going on."

"Do you detect anything suspicious?" Iruka asked slowly. A hopeful glint appeared in the his eyes.

"No," Kakashi assured. "At least not now."

"Oh." The hope faded from Iruka's face as he shrugged. "Neither do I."

"And why is that a problem?"

The sensei wearily rubbed his scar as he mulled over how to respond. "Have you ever had the feeling you're being watched?"

"Who hasn't?"

Iruka looked down at his slightly trembling hands, clenching them into fists and forcing them to still before reluctantly admitting, "For the last three weeks now, I've felt like…like someone's stalking me. Like I'm being hunted."

"You've sensed a presence?"

The chunin shook his head. "It's not that I'm feeling a presence so much as a… a… _non_-presence. Like the startled feeling when you expect there to be another step on a stairwell, but there isn't one. Something just beyond my perceptions that…" Iruka's face reddened at the sound of Kakashi's amused chuckle. "You know what- never mind! Forget I said anything."

"Mah…don't get mad." Kakashi waved his hands, willing the other to continue. "I was just picturing you stumbling on the stairs."

"Even if you don't believe me, you should at least have the decency not to laugh at my expense."

"But I _do_ believe you."

The sensei frowned skeptically at him, but it was clear in his eyes that the prospect of being believed lifted some unseen weight.

"Have you told anyone?" the jounin prompted, wanting to assure his friend that he was sincere in his concern.

It seemed to work, for at length the other responded, "I didn't at first. I had nothing concrete to report, and I didn't want to make an issue over an uneasy feeling. Finally, after four days, I mentioned it to Izumo during one of our mission room shifts. He got so worked up over it that he reported it the Hokage." Iruka rubbed the back of his neck and chuckled sheepishly.

"And did Tsunade take it seriously?" Kakashi urged, wanting to get to bottom of the matter.

"As seriously as she could with such a vague report. I had nothing to go on besides an unsettled feeling," Iruka explained. "Lady Tsunade assigned a jounin to shadow me for a week. Raido confirmed that there's nothing amiss.

"And that was it?" Kakashi asked skeptically. "You just let it go?"

Iruka smiled guiltily. "Well, no. After that I asked Kiba and his dog, Akamaru, to investigate by sniffing around my apartment. They didn't smell a thing.

Kakashi's frown deepened, but Iruka waved his hand dismissively. "Ah, don't worry about it, Kakashi. Who would want to go after me anyway?"

"You do go on missions," the jounin grimly asserted. "_Someone_ out there could want revenge."

"And so they stalk me, undetected, for three weeks- inside my own village, among so many Leaf ninja, without ever making a single move?" Iruka questioned dubiously.

"It could happen." Kakashi said. "It doesn't have to be about revenge. They could have found out about your role at the Mission Department and see you as a source of information. Or what about Naruto?"

"Naruto?" Iruka repeated in confusion. "Naruto's training with Jiraiya."

"No. I mean, anyone who wants to go after Naruto and does their research could decide to use you as bait."

"I'm just his old teacher. You're his sensei now. Wouldn't it make more sense to go after you?"

"No offense, but you're definitely the easier target."

"Well, it's still extremely unlikely," Iruka grumbled. "Between a jounin shadow guard and the Inuzuka, someone should have been able to detect something wrong, don't you think?"

The Copy Nin didn't reply.

Seeing his patient lost in thought, Iruka took the opportunity to reach forward and sterilize the jounin's still-exposed wounds. The antiseptic liquid bubbled as it contacted the bloodied abrasion and Kakashi pulled out of his musings with a hiss.

"It's infected," Iruka explained curtly.

Kakashi inhaled sharply as the chunin applied more of the stinging liquid. "What did Tsunade say?" He finally ground out.

"About infections?"

"About your stalker."

"Oh," The teacher's voice held a disapproving _why-are-we-still-on-this-topic_ tone. "She said...well, she said I've been under too much stress. I invested a lot of energy on that presentation for graduation reform, and the feelings started after my proposal was struck down." Iruka's face reddened slightly. "Tsunade said my anxiety is unfounded, and if the problem persists she knows of medication that could be effective."

"Is it?"

Iruka held out his hands and let out an exasperated breath. "How would I know? I haven't tried the medication yet."

"No, I meant your anxiety. Is it unfounded?"

"The Hokage says it is."

"And what do _you _say?"

The chunin ignored the question, instead continuing with the healing.

Silence stretched between them, but it was heavy with Kakashi's disapproval and Iruka finally responded.

"Raidou- who specializes in tracking- didn't find anything. Kiba and Akamaru- with their extremely honed senses- didn't scent anything. Our Hokage- the best medic in Konoha- already diagnosed it as psychological." Iruka rubbed his eyes tiredly. "That's the reality of the situation, Kakashi, and I wouldn't want to be accused of rejecting reality."

The Copy Nin didn't have to be a genius to look beneath those words. Iruka was unconvinced by the Hokage's diagnosis, yet unwilling to challenge it and cast doubt on his sanity.

Kakashi tried once more to get a sense of their surroundings, feeling out with his chakra. The growing headache and sharp stabbing pain behind his sharingan eye reminded him that he'd already over-exerted himself on his mission. While Iruka was doing a fine job mending his flesh wounds, only time and rest would restore his depleted reserves.

Speaking of rest, "I was thinking I'd spend the night here."

"No."

Kakashi blinked in surprise. "No?"

"No," Iruka repeated firmly. Glancing up at the jounin's face he added, "Hey, don't give me that wounded look. I just don't have clean sheets in the spare room; that's all."

"I've slept outdoors for the last three weeks. You really think I care about the sheets?" And wouldn't Iruka's want an ally around, if he believed he was being watched?

"Well you should care. Who wants to come home to musty smelling sheets after a mission?" Iruka's voice softened as he continued, "Anyway, it's best that you leave. You just got back from the field. You're exhausted and injured. If something were to happen-"

"If something's going to happen, then I want to be here," Kakashi protested.

"Forget it, Kakashi," Iruka said in a steely tone, leaving no room for argument. "You're not staying."

* * *

"Oh for heaven's sake... Kakashi! What do you think you're doing_?"_

The jounin stared down at Iruka, eyebrow raised. Wasn't it obvious? By the incredulous look on the man's face, apparently not.

"Keeping watch," the Copy Nin replied nonchalantly.

Iruka covered his face with one hand, shaking his head.

"You refused to let me stay in your home," Kakashi pointed out reasonably, adjusting himself somewhat more comfortably on the narrow tree branch beyond Iruka's living room window.

"And that gives you the right to lurk outside my window, exhausted and half-dead as you are?"

"I thought you were an optimist, Iruka. You should have said 'half-alive.'"

He threw his arms up. "There's no reasoning with you, is there?" Finally, stepping back, the chunin sighed. "Just…just get inside then, before you fall and break your neck."

"Me? _Fall_?" Kakashi repeated in mock-disbelief. He eased up to his feet, prepared to jump the distance to the windowsill, when one foot slipped out from under him. He managed to reassert control of his faltering chakra reserves enough to kick off and land, albeit clumsily, at his intended destination.

Iruka grabbed his shoulders to prevent him from pitching backward onto the ground outside. "You were saying?"

Not waiting for an answer, the sensei steered him to the guest room. "If you're going to stay, you had better lie down and get some rest," Iruka warned.

The Copy Ninja nodded. It wasn't as though his overtaxed muscles weren't demanding the same thing. Kakashi settled onto the guest bed- a fantastic luxury after those hellish weeks on the field.

"Good night, Kakashi," the chunin said, shutting the door as he left.

Pulling the sheets up around him, Kakashi chuckled as he noticed they smelled very clean.

* * *

The jounin woke in the middle of the night. Sleep had replenished some of his chakra. Enough for him to investigate the matter of Iruka's stalker a bit further.

Kakashi sat up carefully, a chill running through his body when his bare feet touched the cold floor.

He treaded lightly into the kitchen, not pausing to turn on any lights. Another presence appeared at the doorway, and Kakashi barely restrained himself from impaling the person on the spot.

Good thing, too, since it happened to be Iruka.

The chunin's fingers tightened around the hilt of a kunai. He didn't break the silence, but his expression was wary and questioning.

Kakashi managed an easy smile. "I was just going to the bathroom. I'm sorry I disturbed you."

Iruka frowned dubiously, glancing around before replying. "I was awake, anyway."

"Then go back to bed and try to sleep," Kakashi advised, "Or those dark circles under your eyes will rival Gaara's in no time."

"Maybe I should just stay up and keep you company…?" The unease was clear in the chunin's expression.

"Thank you for the offer, Iruka, but I assure you I'm more than capable of going to the bathroom on my own."

A blush spread over the sensei's cheeks. "Oh! Of course. I didn't mean…" An embarrassed chuckle forced its way out of his throat. Suddenly, he vanished in a cloud of chakra smoke- a clone- and the real Iruka appeared on his opposite side. "I'm sorry, Kakashi; I won't bother you. But…if you need anything…"

"If I fall in the toilet, I'll be sure to give you a call," Kakshi smirked, his visible eye curving in mirth. The moment Iruka retreated, the jounin's smile vanished entirely. He'd never seen Iruka treat his own home like enemy territory, and Kakashi found he didn't much like it.

As much as he poked fun at the chunin's protective tendencies, Kakashi knew he had a guardian streak of his own. But whereas Iruka's manifested itself in noise and fuss and warmth, his own brand of protectiveness was often cold and calculating.

Kakashi pushed up his hitai-ate, exposing his Sharingan. A careful visual sweep revealed nothing amiss. Finally, he covered the chakra draining eye, resting briefly against the counter before stepping into the bathroom.

Sequestering himself and sealing the room against sound and chakra, the jounin unwound a bandage from his forearm. He pressed his fingernail into a wound to reopen it, using the blood to summon his smallest nindog, Pakkun.

The pug took an evaluating glance at his grey-faced summoner and shook his head. "This had better be important."

"Good to see you too," he responded.

Pakkun looked around quizzically at their surroundings. "Hey, where are we anyway, boss?"

"A bathroom."

"I can see _that_," Pakkun grumped.

"In Iruka's apartment," Kakashi continued a little more seriously. "You couldn't tell?"

"Well, it's not like I hang around the guy's bathroom all the time. Can we get back to why you're wasting your chakra to summon me?" Pakkun frowned at his summoner, his brusqueness merely a cover for his worry. The jounin had this unfortunate tendency of refusing to acknowledge his own limits.

"I need you to sniff around the apartment. There may be someone stalking Iruka, and I want to know who it is." Kakashi paused to tilt his head appraisingly. "And just so you know, one of the Inuzuka dogs already investigated, and found nothing."

Pakkun harrumphed. "Well, what do you expect from an Inuzuka dog? Just leave this to me."

Kakashi knew his pack could get a little competitive, and they had no greater rivals than the Inuzuka familiars. The jounin leaned back and let Pakkun get to work, knowing the pug's full effort would be in it.

Carefully, the ninken sniffed out the bathroom. Afterwards, Kakashi allowed him into kitchen, careful to keep silence. The living room was likewise meticulously scented before the pair retreated into the guest bedroom. The jounin didn't want to disturb Iruka, who seemed to have finally fallen asleep, so for now his was the only room left untouched.

"Well?" Kakashi prompted, settling down onto the mattress for a debriefing with the dog.

Pakkun hesitated, before finally dropping his head. "I'm sorry to disappoint you. I couldn't smell a thing."

"Nothing?" the Copy Nin pressed.

"No…just the light scent of you and Iruka-sensei. It doesn't seem like anyone else has been here in a long time."

"I see." The silver haired shinobi nodded to himself. "Good work, Pakkun."

The expression of incredulity looked comical on the pug's dour, wrinkled face.

"Scent elimination," Kakashi explained. "The fact that Iruka's scent is only light- so much so that you couldn't identify whose apartment we were in at first- is proof that someone recently obliterated all scent traces to conceal their presence here. Otherwise, this place should reek of the sensei. He _does_ live here, after all."

"And you said there were Inuzuka here before. I should have been able to scent _them_." Pakkun realized, sitting back on his haunches. "But why would anyone go after Iruka-sensei?"

"I'll know soon enough," the jounin said shortly. "Anyone going after Iruka will have to get through me."


	7. Chapter 7

Kakashi had only been asleep a couple of hours when the smell of omelets roused him into wakefulness. Rubbing his eye, he groaned before glancing at the small clock on the bedside table.

Four in the morning? He blinked hard and checked again, confirming the time. Then he slouched into the kitchen, where Iruka was busy preparing breakfast. "Hello."

The chunin's body jerked in a startled motion, his arm knocking a half empty carton of eggs onto the floor. When he whirled around to face Kakashi, an embarrassed flush colored his face. "Oh…ah…good morning. I didn't hear you get up." The chunin discreetly pocketed the kunai that had found its way into hand.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to startle you."

"No, it's not your fault. I shouldn't have been so clumsy." The chunin chucked half-heartedly, stooping to clean the mess on the floor. Tension lined every cord of Iruka's body. He moved as though he were on a battlefield, anticipating attack at any moment. Three weeks of being hunted while having to pretend that nothing's wrong were taking its toll on the man.

Once the mess was cleaned, Iruka returned to the omelet sizzling on his stove top. "Would you like some breakfast?"

"At four in the morning?"

"Why not?"

Kakashi's sleep-muddled mind arrived at no compelling objection. "Sure."

Between the two of them, breakfast was prepared and set out quickly. Iruka poured two cups of tea, before taking a seat and arranging his paperwork before him.

"I take it you couldn't sleep?" The Copy Nin commented lightly.

"I slept," Iruka responded vaguely. "It's just that I need to finish my lesson plan for today."

"Don't you plan those things months in advance?"

"Ah…well, I do normally. But I've been having trouble with this unit. The students aren't grasping the material, so I need to make revisions to my lesson."

"Or maybe they just need to study more," Kakashi pointed out.

Iruka chuckled. "Maybe so, but it doesn't hurt to try different methods and see what they respond to best. I have many tactile learners this year; they learn best by doing." The sensei tiredly rubbed his scar. "However, opportunities for a hands-on approach are limited with Introduction to Assassination."

"I'm sure I could help think up something," the jounin facetiously volunteered. "As a bonus, you might end up with a smaller class by the end of it."

"I'm not desperate enough to resort to that, thank you," Iruka declined. "Though it is frustrating. I introduced the eight basic target points in the body the other day, and the kids have yet to memorize them."

The two ninja fell silent, Iruka scribbling more notes while Kakashi picked at his meal, a distant expression on his face.

"Sing them."

"Excuse me?" Iruka looked up quizzically.

"The eight target points. Sing them." Kakashi notice the chunin's puzzled gaze and a sheepish look appeared on his face. "That's how my father taught me, anyway. Sorry; it was a foolish suggestion."

"Not at all! Music is a great tool for memorization," Iruka assured. "I just don't know how you could turn something like that into a song."

"It's not complicated," Kakashi shrugged. "I was…four, I think, when I learned the assassin's eight basic target points."

"Would you sing it for me, then?" he asked.

The jounin frowned, regretting that he'd volunteered such information. "I'd rather not."

"Come on, it's your suggestion!" Iruka urged with a grin. "What's the point of mentioning it if you're going to back down?"

Kakashi hadn't sung anything in over a decade; let alone with someone else listening. Still he noticed that, for once, Iruka was not casting about for his elusive enemy, but rather had his full attention on the jounin,

After a resigned sort of sigh, he began to hum, searching for the old tune in his mind. The words and rhythm flowed back to him immediately. It was a simple meter- more of a rhyme than a song, really. Without looking at Iruka, he began to recite:

To slay a foe, where do you start?

A sharpened blade into the heart.

Failing that, more points remain-

Strike through the skull, to reach the brain.

A fatal wound you will deliver

if you pierce through the lungs or liver.

Carotid artery, jugular vein

to the throat these both pertain.

You'll also fell the enemies

With puncture wounds to the kidneys.

Another option, son of mine

Is using force to snap the spine.

So bear in mind these targets eight

And you'll become an assassin great.

Iruka listened to the older ninja's song, the soothing rhythmic tone belied by the violent lyrics. The memories were faded, but Iruka could still recall his mother singing to him at night, when he couldn't sleep. Dad never sang, but sometimes he would hover in the doorway and listen. The words were now lost in time, but Iruka was fairly certain that they had nothing to do impalement.

He felt a vague pang as he tried to picture himself teaching his class this verse. There was no reason not to, of course, if it could help them on their missions, even save their lives. It had been taught to Hatake Kakashi and, as the Council and Board of Education were quick to point out, he was the epitome of an elite shinobi. It shouldn't depress him to know that Kakashi had been groomed in the ways of an assassin at about the age most children are learning to print their own names.

"Well?"

Iruka looked up to find an inquisitive and oddly nervous jounin, waiting to hear his verdict. He rubbed the scar on his nose. "Well, the vocabulary might be a challenge. What kind of four-year-old knows the meaning of the word 'pertain'?" He smiled, "but I do think the song will be useful, anyway. Thank you." _

* * *

Kakashi ignored the small pebbles that were lobbed in his direction. None came particularly close to reaching him anyway.

"Hey, mister! Whatcha doing?" A high pitched nasal voice asked.

"Why're you sitting way up in the tree?" Another chimed.

The jounin likewise ignored the small children lobbing queries his way. Turning a page of his book, he kept his subject in his peripheral vision: the scarred-nose school teacher supervising recess.

Iruka had tried to deter Kakashi from shadowing him (claiming that he ought to rest or some such excuse), but he would not be dissuaded. The Copy Nin was convinced that his friend's imagined stalker was quite real, and he was going to act accordingly.

The jounin didn't attempt to conceal himself as he kept watch over the sensei; he merely lingered in the background as unobtrusively as possible. Kakashi was not at full strength. If the situation called for a fight, he'd be at a disadvantage. Thus, it was better for him to be visible. Just the presence of the Copy Ninja might be enough to discourage foul play.

Kakashi watched a few children wheedle Iruka away from the bench were he sat supervising and draw him into a silly game of tag. The opportunistic teacher in turn used the occasion to demonstrate evasive maneuvers. Soon, the students were practicing weaving and dodging exercises, oblivious to the fact that their recess had become a training session.

The brats were thoroughly enjoying themselves when, without any obvious provocation, the chunin's shoulders gradually tensed. His gaze swept protectively over the children, making sure they all were accounted for. "All right, class, recess is over! Time to go inside," he announced calmly, tone displaying none of the anxiety Kakashi was sure he was feeling.

"Awwww, but Iruka-sensaiiiii," the children whined, "It's not time yet."

"We don't wanna go inside!"

"Five more minutes? Pleeeeaaase?"

The sensei crossed his arms. "Five minutes, huh? Well I suppose that gives me enough time to think up a pop quiz."

The children quickly transformed from a group of whining naysayers into an obedient gaggle, rushing into the building before sensei followed through with his threat.

Meanwhile, Kakashi scanned the area while keeping his eyes on his book. He felt a tendril of surprise when he sensed a… non-presence. Just as Iruka had tried to describe.

Unlike the chunin sensei, however, Kakashi recognized the phenomenon- he'd spent far too many years around this technique not to recognize it. With a sigh he snapped his book shut. It was time to settle this.

* * *

Raccoon adjusted her position to get a better sighting into the classroom. A difficult task, considering the teacher's annoyingly persistent habit of avoiding windows.

Finally she found the perfect angle. Iruka's image reflected off one of the children's glasses, allowing her an adequate view.

Withdrawing a notebook from her vest, she resumed marking the pages with notes. The next time she lifted her eyes, she found herself face-to-mask with Hatake Kakashi.

Raccon quickly recovered her composure. Having seen the silver haired jounin lounging about, she knew it was only a matter of time before he found her. "Excuse me, sempai; you're blocking my view."

Kakashi, however, did not budge.

"Sempai, I can't see." Waving her hand impatiently, she indicated that the man should step aside.

"Care to explain yourself?" he asked, face impassive, and still decidedly in her way.

"What is there to explain?" She spread her arms demonstratively, as though the answer were self-evident. "I took you up on your suggestion."

"My suggestion…?" Kakashi trailed off as he recalled their conversation in the restaurant. Understanding flooded in. The shinobi groaned, "Nami, I told you spend time with Iruka- not prowl around him in the shadows!"

"No, you told me to get to know him." Nami corrected defensively. She would have remembered if he'd set such parameters. "I followed your directive the way I thought best. This was the most efficient method to gather intelligence."

"By terrorizing him and casting doubt on his sanity?" Kakashi deadpanned. "Good job. That'll really earn you points with the psych nin."

"I wasn't terrorizing him. I haven't done anything to him at all," Raccoon frowned at the accusation. Then, slowly, a look of understanding dawned on her face. "You mean…he knew I was following him? That's impossible. He's just a chunin."

"You've said that before. I think you may need to reevaluate how seriously you take him."

"Oh…" Nami lowered her eyes to stare at her book. Mournfully, she murmured, "Oh no…"

Despite the situation, Kakashi felt a twinge of sympathy for the ex-ANBU. It was encouraging to see her capable of expressing remorse.

"This means my intel on the chunin is flawed!" Nami lamented, smacking the notebook disgustedly with the back of her hand. "His obsession with security traps, his constant state of paranoia, insomnia, hypervigilance… damn it! Three weeks of reconnaissance, completely wasted!"

Okay…so her dejection was not rooted in remorse. Still, it was precisely because she did not relate normally with other people that she'd been given the assignment in the first place.

"I'm sure it wasn't a complete waste," Kakashi reassured her, despite himself. Nami had been under his captaincy when she joined ANBU, and he couldn't help feeling a bit responsible. "You only need to separate which part of your observations genuinely reflects Iruka's nature, and which were brought on by the stress of being stalked."

"And how will I do that?" She was frustrated, yet determined to see this through. She wouldn't have made it in ANBU without tenacity.

"Quit stalking him," the Copy Nin advised wryly, "And try spending time with him in a natural setting."

She considered the suggestion pragmatically. "Is that even possible?" She questioned, "After what I put him through, he may not willingly do so."

Kakashi grinned. There it was: acknowledgment of how her behavior affected others. She was not so bad off, then. "Don't worry about that," he assured. "Iruka is a very forgiving person."

* * *

"No!" Iruka raged, slamming his cup down and barely noticing as tea sloshed onto the table. "Absolutely not!"

Kakashi set down his own cup, regarding the chunin with a questioning eye. "Why not?"

"Are you crazy? That woman stalked me for over three weeks. Twenty-three days, Kakashi! Do you have any idea how nerve wracking that was- the nearly constant sense of being hunted? And when the investigation failed to turn up a single shred of evidence, no one would take me seriously. My friends thought I was going crazy; my colleagues gave me pitying looks when they thought I wouldn't notice; the Godaime was this close to force-feeding me anti-anxiety drugs…"

"You may still want to look into that," Kakashi suggested.

A vein throbbed distinctly at the chunin's temple as his face turned an impressive shade of red.

"All right, fine," the older nin sighed. "Forget I said anything about inviting Nami over for dinner tomorrow. I just thought that you'd want to help her."

"It's not that I don't want to help her." Iruka gestured helplessly, "But I mean, really, after all that- what am I supposed do?"

"No, you're right. She's probably too far gone to ever adjust to normal society anyway," Kakashi stated agreeably.

"I didn't say that!"

"Not in so many words, but it does support your research." The jounin rested his elbows on Iruka's table, leaning forward nonchalantly.

"You're not making any sense," the chunin frowned.

"Didn't you know? Nami's one of those early Acadamy graduates. Became a genin at the age of nine. It's only inevitable that she become another statistic, ne sensei?"

Iruka stood abruptly, clearing away the dishes from the table and depositing them none too gently in the sink. "For a genius, you're woefully transparent." The chunin turned and crossed his arms challengingly. "It's obvious that you're trying to prey on my sympathies."

"Ah, but that's the genius of it." Kakashi grinned unabashedly, "Even though you know what I'm doing, it's still going to work."

With an aggravated huff, Iruka turned back to his sink and began washing the dirty tableware. The sound of clattering dishes and running water filled the otherwise quiet room.

As the near-silence pressed on, uncertainty began to seep into the jounin's thoughts. Perhaps he underestimated the force of Iruka's temper. Or he'd overestimated how much the younger man was able to forgive.

Kakashi had indeed been subjected to the emotionally-exhausting, physically-straining experience of being trailed for days on end by an enemy he couldn't always perceive. He knew that some ninja suffered nightmares for years after such events. It was wrong of him to demand that Iruka get over it so quickly.

Kakashi opened his mouth to apologize, but the chunin broke the silence first by clearing his throat. Setting a newly washed dish into the cupboard, he sighed, "Tell Nami that dinner is at seven."


End file.
